


Discrete: [adj] individual, disconnected, detatched

by Emphysematous



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Bottom Harry, Class Differences, Cuddling, M/M, Male Masturbation, Rough Sex, Swearing, camboy, casual hook up, failing to communicate, fucking anyway, giving your handler a headache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 21:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20880611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emphysematous/pseuds/Emphysematous
Summary: A collection of unrelated ficlets. Mostly pure PWP.1. Eggsy has a wank.2. Sleepy Hartwin post-mission reunion fuck.3. After sparring practice.4. Eggsy works out some anger - Harry loves it.5: Eggsy and Harry accidentally get married.6. A quick Grindr hook-up7. It's not a relationship if you don't acknowledge it.





	1. Going Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy has a wank

Eggsy adjusted the pillow under his head and thumbed the brightness down on his phone one-handed with it propped against his chest. He backed out of “Epic amateur lesbian teen couple” and scrolled down the associated videos of “Charlotte and Nicole 05″, left hand stroking idly at his cock while he looked for something to pique its interest. But after a brief visit to “beautiful babes Fucking in the Changing room” he huffed a sigh and went back to the categories section, tapping into ‘gay’ and immediately switching on the ‘homemade’ filter. Scrolling past ‘monster white cock”, “DAMN! What a fine ASS!!” and “hot gym guy naked in the woods”, he opened up “real couple fucking”. 

Ah, yes… _lovely_… 

As the guys in the video started to get into it, Eggsy upped the rhythm of his hand on his cock, spreading precome around its head. On his phone’s screen, the couple were engaging in the world’s longest blowjob. He skipped ahead a few minutes and found a good section of noisy slurping and enthusiastic moans. 

_Niiiice_…

He shuffled in bed, spreading his legs a bit and relaxing into the wank. The guys were setting up to fuck now, with liberal applications of lube. Eggsy glanced across at the bedside table where his own lube was tucked into the drawer, but… eh, he was doing alright so far and interrupting his flow now to go and get it…

The bottom in the video let out a long deep groan as his partner pushed into him and Eggsy totally lost his train of thought, rutting up into his tightened fist like he was fucking the guy himself. He paused for a second to brush away hair that was sticking to his forehead with sweat and went back to wanking as the top pulled out and they repositioned themselves and…

_ Oh fuck. Really? _

Eggsy rolled his eyes and let go of himself, thrown out of the mood by the dirty white socks on the bottom’s feet now that they were in the air.

_Fucking socks. Why? Why get naked and leave your fucking filthy gym socks on? Fuck’s sake_…

Annoyed, Eggsy tabbed back and skipped a few pages forwards in the listings, scrolling impatiently for something good. A thumbnail showing a familiar burnt orange room caught his eye and he’d opened it up without even clocking the title. 

He’d never seen the guy’s face. All his videos were carefully shot from jaw down, or discreetly blurred. And usually that would be a deal-killer for Eggsy - who had a thing for eye-rolling pleasure expressions and scrunched up come-faces - but this guy made up for the lack of eye contact with beautifully side-lit full-body shots in HD and exquisite audio of his panting and moans. Eggsy had, more than once, gone through every clip of him that he could find.

This was a new one, not a re-upload of one he’d already seen. Already naked, older but fit, with a sprinkling of body hair, he was sat in his usual leather office chair, with lube and toys neatly set out on the desk. A low, well-educated British voice introduced a new prostate-vibrator toy, and then he tilted back his chair and lifted a foot up onto the edge of the table. Competent fingers worked first lube and then the toy into himself with a little grunt. Eggsy huffed out a quick breath. His left hand gripped his thigh - he wasn’t going to touch himself yet. This guy's videos were to be savoured.

On screen, the solo guy dropped his leg and shifted in his chair, wiggling onto the vibrator. His long fingers wrapped around his cock and he stroked himself lazily, in no hurry. Eggsy’s cock twitched as precome dripped onto the video-guy’s thigh. He still wasn’t going to touch himself. In the video, the man’s breathing was getting deeper, his stomach flexing as he worked his muscles to grip the toy. He’d let go of his dick and had his hands flat on the arms of his chair, thighs shaking a little. He shuffled, slouching a bit more, tilting his hips and then that gorgeous desperate moan rang out; a tiny gasp at first, followed by a deep vocalisation as he gave into what he was feeling. 

_Oh fuck yes_…

Eggsy grabbed his cock, no longer able to withhold. The guy in the orange room was holding his hand in front of his cock so that the knuckles of two fingers brushed at the underside - no more touching than that. But he was rock hard and dripping and his movements were getting less controlled, more determined. Eggsy held his fist still and pumped his hips up to fuck into his hand while the guy on screen rocked back and forth in his expensive leather chair - and Eggsy had the filthy thought of licking the sweat and lube and come off it after one of these sessions - while he let out increasingly frantic moans with every thrust of his hips. 

He must be close by now - Eggsy certainly was - and then there it was: he suddenly sat up and groaned full-throated and deep, fingers of both hands digging into the muscular flesh of his thighs while his abs crunched and his dick twitched and he was coming. Coming in steady pulsed flashes that poured down his cock and splashed onto his thighs, while he gasped high-pitched, pleading moans from the back of his throat. He sat back in his chair, chest heaving, body covered with a sheen of sweat, toy still buzzing quietly inside him. Eggsy thumbed back a minute or so and watched him come again, spurting up over his belly and fingers when this time he kept the video going long enough to see the solo guy lift his fingers up to his face, the audio clearly catching him licking his fingers clean. 

They panted in sync through the afterglow, Eggsy massaging his softening cock, the video guy eventually propping his foot back up on the desk and sliding the toy out. He stroked at his hole for a moment, giving Eggsy filthy thoughts of burying his tongue in there and then the video blacked out and some ghastly advert for “BIG DICKS NEAR YOU!!” flashed up on the screen. Eggsy closed the browser on his phone and rolled over, completely sated.


	2. Beltane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepy Hartwin post-mission reunion fuck

It was stupidly hot for May and Eggsy - bored out of his mind with Harry out in the field and with a blinding headache that made him too lethargic and irritable to want to go out - had taken himself grumpily off to bed before nine, with a pint of water and a couple of sneaky Kingsman-issue painkillers. Probably overkill for the pain he was in, but he had nothing to do and if he was going to be having an early night wallowing in self-pity, he might as well be slightly off his tits while he was about it. 

Two hours later, he lay starfished and naked across the mattress, two fans blowing cool air over him and a tangle of discarded bedding shoved aside; drifting uncomfortably between sleep and wake in the heat of the room and the fuzziness of the painkillers. He clutched a pillow and inhaled the smell of Harry’s hair, soothing himself. They were used to spending time apart, used to living with that constant state of low-level anxiety when the other was on mission. It wasn’t even like this one was anything particularly dangerous - but Eggsy had mourned Harry once and lived in dread of having to go through that again. Being used to a feeling didn’t make the feeling go away. 

He twitched restlessly, hand stretching out in search of the steadying reassurance of Harry’s warmth next to him but finding only empty space. Disjointed, confusing images flashed through his mind. Harry downing a pint in one in the Black prince; sipping a martini in his office; falling back like a rag doll with Valentine’s bullet in his head; lost and soft and on the verge of tears in the padded room at Statesman; telling him he’d never loved on an aeroplane; wrapped around him and gasping his name the first time they’d fucked; the two of them giggling over scandalised looks as they kissed in public like teenagers; solid and steady, holding Eggsy firm as they put up christmas lights together.

His dreams got more vivid. The murmur of Harry’s voice, with the faint puff of tea on his breath. Twinings - if you don’t mind - with a dash of milk and two sugars. The creak of their mattress and Harry’s calming hand on his shoulder, just letting him know that he’s there, that’s it’s past midnight and not to wake up. And maybe he is there, Eggsy’s not really sure, but he feels safe and comforted and he twines his fingers with Harry - or dream-Harry - and lets out a sigh that takes all the tension away and drifts into proper sleep at last. 

*

It’s still the very early hours when Eggsy surfaces into the waking world again and fuzzily realises that yes, Harry is home and safe and sprawled naked next to him. It’s cooler now: cool enough to want to seek body heat instead of avoid it, and Eggsy snuggles into Harry’s arms, kissing happily at the hollow of his throat and relaxing back into dozing, not wanting to disturb Harry’s rest. 

*

Later, when Harry wraps a leg around his hips, Eggsy stirs again - finding Harry stroking softly at his shoulder, lips pressed against his hairline. He tips his head back and claims a full kiss, sinking into Harry’s closeness and whispered nothings. He’s still sleepy, but the drugs have worn off now and his headache is gone and just now everything is alright in the world. He nuzzles along Harry’s collarbone and strokes a hand down his body from shoulderblade to arse, treating himself to a gratuitous squeeze. Harry huffs tolerantly into his hair. They’re a tangle of intertwined limbs and for a moment Eggsy wants to fuck - but this is too perfect, and when Harry lets out a little snore he smiles to himself and just enjoys. 

*

This time Eggsy’s woken by JB having one of his snuffly sneezing fits. And now even if his brain isn’t fully awake his body certainly is. He’s spooning Harry from behind and his cock his hard against Harry’s back and he wants him. He must have moved or pressed against him or something because Harry chuckles and rolls over, unashamedly rolling his hips against Eggsy’s.

It’s still dark outside so it can’t even be 5am but Harry seems to be rested enough from the way he’s running hot hands over Eggsy’s skin. Eggsy wants to ask him how he is, how the mission went, to check he’s okay, but Harry’s kissing him, all tongue and teeth and the niceties can wait. All that matters right now is getting as much of his body in contact with as much of Harry’s body as he can. 

They writhe about a bit. Naked and slightly sweaty from the humidity. It’s decadent and despite all the things they’ve done, everything Harry’s introduced him to or shared with him, this still somehow feels dirty. Just this rutting and kissing and groping; like they’re sixth formers surreptitiously making out in the back of the college theatre - uh, not that Eggsy’s ever done that. Ahem. 

It’s Harry who escalates it. Crawling up to sit astride Eggsy’s waist, he spends a while enjoying the view before reaching for the bedside table and the lube in the drawer. And yessss, that’s the best fucking idea ever. Harry drops a handful of it over Eggsy’s crotch and another up underneath himself and they’re a mess of slippery hands on skin and wet open-mouthed kisses and hurried urgent touches. Fingers slide up into Harry and over Eggsy’s aching prick but by that point, Eggsy would have been hard-pressed to say who was doing what to whom. 

He expects Harry to sit on his cock. He’s already up there, and its something they’re both particularly partial to, but Harry rolls them both over and spreads his legs and _fuck_ it’s hot when Harry’s a whore for him. Eggsy groans aloud and crawls up his body to kiss him again but Harry’s impatient now, lifting his hips and wrapping his legs around Eggsy’s waist. Eggsy takes the hint and guides himself to press slowly into him. They haven’t done much in the way of foreplay but Harry’s been about a bit - to use his own phrase - and there’s something lovely about the grip of him when they’re hasty like this. Eggsy’s taking it slow, anyway - savouring how Harry’s responding to him, every hitch of his breath and little wiggle of his hips as he adjusts around him. 

They’re rocking together now, Eggsy’s forehead pressed against Harry’s shoulder and, sure it’s lovely when your boyfriend’s strong and tall but it does make some positions in bed a little trickier. On the other hand, Harry’s ridiculously long legs are wrapped right around his hips, encouraging every thrust and that’s bloody _lovely_. Eggsy can feel his orgasm mounting and while a part of him is slightly embarrassed at how quick it’s going to be, it feels too good for him to want to try to slow it down. He grips Harry’s biceps tightly and makes slightly strangled noise of apology by way of warning. Harry huffs a wordless question back at him but it’s obvious from the way Eggsy’s losing rhythm that he’s gone too far to pull back now. Harry’s body squeezes tight around him and he ruts faster up against him, dragging his nails down Eggsy’s back and bringing him up and over the edge so that he’s coming, hard and shuddering and stifling what would have been a ridiculously wanton moan.

There’s an amount of panting and little ripples of afterglow and then Eggsy pulls himself together enough to peel himself off Harry’s chest and crawl down the bed to settle between his thighs and then has his mouth full of Harry’s cock and two fingers up inside him and Harry is gasping and rocking his hips and Eggsy kinda wants to string this out and get him really desperate and begging but he’s knackered and the faster he can get Harry off the faster they can snuggle up together and he’s been determined not to be That Guy who comes and falls asleep without reciprocating ever since it happened three times in a row when they’d first got together and Harry had made a very polite but also very pointed Little Comment. 

He’s had plenty of time to learn how to play Harry’s body since then, though and when Harry suddenly grabs him by the hair and shifts him slightly to the left he knows he’s got him. He pulls out all the stops, sucking and slurping and lapping his tongue while his fingers circle and stroke in counterpoint and Harry gasps a breath, locks all this limbs and goes totally silent and still except for the pulses of come spurting into Eggsy’s mouth and the aura of pure desperate satisfaction radiating from him. 

Eggsy licks him clean and reaches for yesterday’s t-shirt on the floor to guiltily wipe his fingers, then wriggles back up the bed to where Harry is reaching for him, drawing him into a hug and a final, filthy kiss. Harry presses another to Eggsy’s forehead and there’s so much to say and catch up on but somehow none of that is important just now. Word and details are all taking a backseat to the contentment of just being them. Here. Now. Together. 


	3. Sparring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After sparring practice

They lay panting on the padded floor of the sparring area, sprawled on their backs, sweat cooling on flushed skin. Harry wearily felt about on the mat until he found Eggy’s arm and followed it down to squeeze his wrist. “Told you so.”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Eggsy grumbled, trying to hide just how much his chest was heaving. “You cheated. You and your freakishly long legs.” 

Harry huffed a laugh between breaths. “So we’ll just implement a height limit for your future assailants, shall we?”

“No, just a leg-to-torso ratio of less than sixty percent, you mutant.” Eggsy rolled over and - showing off his remarkable flexibility, ran his toe down Harry’s body from chest to foot. “Fucking unfair, you are.”

“And your body isn’t?” Harry unashamedly treated himself to an eyeful of Eggsy’s arms, chest, abs, thighs… All firm muscle, taut skin and glowing with exertion. He licked his lips, then coughed. “I mean, of course, that you’re younger, heavier, faster and fitter than me…”

“Yeah, I bet that exactly what you meant, you old perv.” Eggsy wriggled closer and kissed him. “Not that I was trying my hardest, or anything. Obviously I let you win. Manners, and all that.”

“Oh of course. You practically rolled over and gave it to me, didn’t you?” Harry murmured against his jaw.

“Uh huh.” Eggsy ran his nails down Harry’s back. “Like you’re going to tonight.”

Harry hooked a leg over Eggy’s hips. “Do we have to wait until tonight?”


	4. Anger Management

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy works out his anger - and Harry loves it.

It wasn’t often that Eggsy got angry. Miffed, yes. Put out, certainly. Frustrated, annoyed, exasperated - all pretty much daily occurrences. But actually, truly, clenched-fists ‘angry’ was a rare thing.

Which was a shame because Harry had quite a guilty little thing about seeing him in full set-teeth, muscles-rippling, wall-punching _rage_.

For one thing, he looked absolutely fucking stunning when he was in a mood. All dark eyes and chiseled jaw and heavy, biting sarcasm which just teetered on the knife-edge of being outright aggressive rudeness but was said with just enough of an overly-bright smile to be brushed off as a joke - even when it clearly wasn’t.

The other thing was… well, Eggsy liked to angry-fuck. And, oh dear _God_, did Harry like that.

It wasn’t exactly a violence thing, although it certainly got rough; and it wasn’t exactly a dominance thing, although Eggsy was certainly the one in control; it was some kind of aura of heat and power and pure, pheromonal, caveman masculinity behind Eggsy’s rage that made Harry weak at the knees - and hard as a fucking steel bar.

At first Eggsy had tried to deny that there was a connection between his having a difficult or frustrating day and the harder, more physical sex he’d have with Harry that evening. He’d not wanted to be that kind of man that takes out his grievances on his partner. He’d lived with that kind of man through his adolescence and it turned his stomach. But this was different. If Eggsy was annoyed with Harry - if they’d had some kind of domestic spat - then they were far more likely to not have sex at all until it had been resolved, and then it’d be close and grabbing and kissing and passionate: a reconnection.

However, if he was angry at _someone else_… He was still loving and careful and considerate - he wasn’t a monster - but he tended to get somewhat _rougher_. More likely to take what he wanted first and worry about reciprocation later. More likely to just manhandle Harry into the position he wanted, rather than taking the time to tell him. More likely to go hard and fast and dirty, until they were both dripping in sweat and gasping for breath. Which had always been a type of sex Harry was very much partial to.

It had taken a while for Harry to reassure him that he didn’t take Eggsy’s anger personally. That he was old enough and experienced enough and secure enough in their relationship to take what Eggsy had to give if he wanted it, or to refuse it if he didn’t, or to stop it if he changed his mind halfway through. That yeah, sure, Eggsy could go and work out the frustration with a round in the gym with a punching bag if he felt that was somehow morally better than using Harry’s body to work up the same endorphins through a round of hard sex - but that if they both enjoyed the latter, well… why not?

And now Harry was in the strange mindfuck of a situation where seeing his boyfriend get irate both filled him with spousal concern, and gave him a raging hard on.

And today they’d busted a gun smuggling group who had been running dogfights on the side. If anything was going to make Eggsy livid, it was animal abuse. With every ruined fighting dog and broken bait dog Eggsy had rescued from that warehouse, he’d got more and more furious.

The cab ride home had been thick with tension. Eggsy’s barely-controlled smouldering, and Harry’s apologetic, barely-decent anticipation. He’d fumbled with the keys in the lock in his haste to get the door open. Eggsy, too wound up to worry about propriety, had simply pointed upstairs. Harry had already been headed towards them.

He left his jacket on the bannister, his tie abandoned on top of his shoes which had been hastily toed off in the corner. His shirt and trousers led a path to the bed and he was crawling across the mattress to grab lube from the bedside table when Eggsy loomed in the doorway, shirt already off, trousers unzipped.

“Fucking bastards!” he barked, the first thing he’d said beyond curt, one-word responses to direct questions since the mission had ended.

“I know, love,” Harry murmured, trying to be soothing. Eggsy didn’t seem to hear him, but gripped him by the ankle and hauled him back across the bed. Harry loosened his limbs, letting himself be put where he was wanted, and ended up lying diagonally across the bed on his stomach. Behind him, Eggsy was shoving off the rest of his own clothing. Harry took the opportunity to get a handful of hastily-poured lube down the back of his underwear and between his arsecheeks. He tossed the bottle helpfully onto his back.

“Utter, fucking, inhuman cunts…” Eggsy growled, grabbing the bottle and hauling Harry’s underwear down his backside. The bed dipped as he climbed on top of him, swiping a hand roughly into the cleft of Harry’s arse. Two fingers entered him, twisted and left again in the space of a moment. Harry groaned and grabbed a pillow to put under his chest.

Eggsy knelt up, supporting all his weight with one hand on Harry’s shoulderblade, while he used the other to guide his cock into him. “Cunts!” he barked again, pushing roughly in.

“Cunts!” Harry gasped, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut in pleasure.

“Sick, evil bastards,” Eggsy growled. He adjusted his grip, one hand now at the curve of harry’s shoulder and neck, the other gripping him at the bicep. His calves locked over Harry’s thighs, holding him still while he fucked into him. Harry grunted with the thrusts, working his free hand underneath his body to give his own cock a bit more friction. “Fucking sick!”

“Sick!” Harry agreed, closing his eyes and letting himself be fucked up the bed until his head started to press against the headboard. Dear god, this was a good one. He wasn’t going to last long.

Eggsy let out a long low growl and clawed a handful of Harry’s hair, wrenching his head back. “We should have just shot the fuckers.” His other hand gripped Harry’s jaw, two fingers pushing into his mouth. “Fuck!” Harry made as much of an agreement as he could under the circumstances, arching his back to get Eggsy’s cock deeper into him.

They were a writhing, sweaty mess now. Eggsy’s fingers covered in Harry’s saliva, Harry almost incoherent with the pleasure and pounding he was taking, Eggsy’s fingertips turning white from how hard he was pinning Harry down. It ended quickly, Eggsy’s coming with a yell of frustration and relief, then climbing off Harry, physically turning him over and almost choking himself on Harry’s cock in some semblence of apology and repayment. He swallowed everything Harry had to give and then flopped, panting and boneless across Harry’s hips while they both caught their breath.

“Feeling better?” Harry asked, several minutes later, when the sweat was starting chill his skin. He reached down and tugged gently at Eggsy’s shoulder, pulling him up to lie next to him. There was an inelegant moment of trying to get the duvet out from underneath them both so that they could cuddle under it.

“Much better, thank you.” Eggsy shut his eyes, still slightly guilty and ashamed of himself. He sighed and snuggled into the warmth and security of Harry’s arms. “They’re still cunts, though.”

Harry nodded and kissed the top of his head. “Yes they are, love. Absolute cunts.”


	5. Whoops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Eggsy accidentally get married

So, Eggs and Harry are on a mission. In Vegas. Their marks have been taken down and now here they are, high on a successful operation, in the world’s playground. They hit the bars. They hit the casinos. They hit the bars. They laugh and smirk all the way through one of those cheesy Cher-themed wedding experiences.

It is not an experience. It’s a real goddamn wedding.

Merlin hits the roof. “What the fuck were you playing at, getting fucking married in Vegas? Utterly insane!” Harry and Eggs shuffle uncomfortably and mumble about getting carried away.

“Carried away!” Merlin puffs himself up for another go but composes himself and lets out a long steadying breath.

“Okay. Its fine, it’s fine. No problem. We’ll get it annulled. Silly games gone too far. Happens all the time. Not an issue.”

He chuckles to himself. “It’s not like you bloody consummated it or anything. Quick phone call and you’re sorted”

There’s a deafening silence.

Merlin’s knuckles whiten around his pen. His voice is low and dangerous. “You. Did. _Not_. Consummate. It.” his eyes flash warningly. “That’s the story. Right?”

Harry studies his nails. Eggsy swallows thickly. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I said. But, uh. thing is mate. Um. Those casino lifts have got cameras in them.”

Merlin’s pen snaps in his hand.

So what, we’re organising a divorce; or you’re just married now? That’s a thing I’m supposed to deal with, is it?”

“Well we were rather thinking we might throw a reception…?”

“… You are unreal.”


	6. Grindr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick Grindr hook up

“Wha- how do you want it?” Eggsy panted, hands slipping over Harry’s sweat-slick hips, thighs slapping hard against his backside.

Harry grunted into the glossy surface of his desk, thrusting back. “Harder,” he coughed out. “More. Come on, _fuck me_.”

“Fucking hell…” Eggsy took a breath. “You are something else.” He grabbed Harry’s shirt and hauled him back onto his cock, jackhammering into him. Harry’s moan was shuddering and loud. Eggsy clamped a hand over his mouth. “Jesus, keep it down, yeah?” The moan turned into a whine, Harry sucking air between Eggsy’s fingers, pressing his tongue where they joined his palm. He said something entirely unintelligible. Eggsy shifted his hand to hold him by the jaw. “What was that?”

“I said I’m gonna come,” Harry gasped out, clutching at Eggsy’s forearm. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, _don’t stop_…” His words trailed out into meaningless vocalisations and Eggsy pushed through the burning ache in his lower back to pound Harry into a shaking climax, come spattering onto the carpet.

He pulled out and ran his nails down Harry’s back, sliding his hand up under the hem of his shirt to stroke at his skin and soothe him through the comedown. Harry whimpered a little, trembling slightly. Eggsy squeezed at his waist. “You okay there?”

Harry chuckled, body flopped bonelessly over the desk, still panting. “I’m… spectacular. Thank you.” He shifted his hips, feeling Eggsy still hard against his arse and looked around at him, hair falling into his eyes. “You want me to suck you off?” He slid into his chair and pulled the lever to drop the seat down until his face was at Eggsy’s waist, his trousers still crumpled around his ankles.

It was the casualness that did it. Eggsy actually choked, coughing incredulously. “Uh, cheers mate, but it’s just been, like…” He pointed upwards with one finger, lip curling slightly.

Harry shrugged. “You want to have at it til you’re done?” He got back up and bent over the desk again, spreading his feet, glancing back at Eggsy over his shoulder.

Eggsy stared at him, momentarily stunned - except for the sudden surge of blood to his groin. “Seriously?” He cocked his head, unsure whether Harry was joking.

Harry flashed him a grin that was pure filth and arched his back. “If it helps, it’s something I’m rather partial to.” He reached out to take Eggsy’s hand and draw him closer, voice dropping to a husky whisper. “How about you just take what you want?” He put Eggsy’s hand on his hip and wiggled his backside.

“_Fuuuuck_…” Eggsy breathed, clutching at Harry’s damp skin, feeling round the curve of buttock until he had a firm handful. He twisted his wrist and pushed two fingers back into him. “You’re a proper slut, yeah?” He’d shuffled round behind him before he’d really realised what he was doing, cock nestling into Harry’s crack. “Why are you posh gits always perverts?”

“Generations of repression.” Harry sighed as Eggsy pressed inside again. “Ugh, fuck yes. _Use_ me.”

Something in that sent a coil of arousal right through Eggsy’s belly. He took hold of Harry’s shirt again and did just as he was told.


	7. Unspoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a relationship if you don't acknowledge it

The cards had been on the table for a while. He’d definitely felt a pull towards Harry from the moment he’d downed his pint in the Black Prince with Dean’s goons scattered about the floor at their feet. And it had felt safe to show off his body a bit, or drop the occasional barely-veiled comment, or touch him just a bit longer than was entirely appropriate, because Harry was so clearly out of his league that flirting with him was as likely to get him anywhere as wolf-whistling at Natalie Dormer from across the street - even if the whole boss/mentor/proprietary thing hadn’t been looming over them like a stormcloud on a bank holiday. It was just a bit of fun, yeah? No harm in dreaming, right?

And then he’d been two tequilas past pissed, on a night out in a seedy club with his friends from home when a familiar silhouette had squeezed his arse while he’d been heading to the loo and the next thing he knew he’d had his back pressed up against the door of a cubicle in the bogs, staring down at Harry’s gorgeous eyes looking up at him, whilst getting the head of the century. Harry had stumbled out just moments after swallowing Eggsy’s come and zipping him tidily back up; and something in the loose way he moved suggested that he was at least as - if not significantly more - off his tits than Eggsy was himself. So when he’d spotted Harry barely managing to stand in the queue for taxis outside, he’d insisted they share a cab so he could see him home safely - and given him a cheeky hand shandy on the way. It’d almost have been rude not to, innit?

Then nothing at all for almost a month. Everything continued as normal like none of it had happened and Eggsy chalked it up as a one-off night of impulsiveness that they both probably should regret - except he didn’t regret it at all - and that definitely shouldn’t be repeated. 

So of course they repeated it.

It was in the changing rooms of the fitness suite. Eggsy had been splattered with mud and dripping with sweat after a blazingly hot afternoon out on the assault course and Harry damp from the shower after a one-to-one with one of their martial arts trainers. He didn’t even know how it happened. They’d exchanged tired hellos at the water fountain, Harry had walked over to one of the changing rooms, glanced back over his shoulder at Eggsy at the door - and Eggsy had just… followed him in.

That time he’d gone down on Harry, got him off, and then steadfastly refused to let him return the favour; embarrassed about how sweaty and dirty he was. Harry hadn’t let him leave unsatisfied. He’d come rutting against Harry’s hand stroking him over his shorts while they snogged on the floor. It was like being fifteen all over again. And much like fifteen year olds, they did it again whenever an opportunity cropped up.

They didn’t talk about it. No reference to anything outside of a friendly professional relationship was ever alluded to. Eggsy continued to low-key moon after Harry as he had done since the day they’d met, and Harry continued to stare wistfully at him when he thought that no one was looking. Roxy still wound him up something rotten about how he just needed to grow some balls and ask Harry out, and Percival kept ‘casually’ mentioning to Harry at every available chance how nice it was that the modern world was open to all kinds of relationships these days: straight, gay, interracial, inter-religious, age-gap, polyamorous… 

As far as anyone else was concerned, the unrequited romance between them that everyone teased them about remained… unrequited. And really, in terms of ‘romance’, it absolutely was unrequited.

Except for the fucking.


End file.
